


Collapse

by Bun800



Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort/Angst, Death, Fictional Religion & Theology, Folklore, Hueco Mundo, Inoue's not totally useless, Multi, Origin Story, Slight Grimmichi, Slinging arrows, Slow Burn, Sort of based on fairy tales, Trust Issues, dream team, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29909433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bun800/pseuds/Bun800
Summary: To overthrow the Quincies all things must collapse. Reawakened and healed, Grimmjow and Nelliel have one mission other than to take out the king—find Harribel. Battling sins, enemies, and death, not all goes according to plan.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo/Nelliel tu Oderschvank
Kudos: 3





	1. All Things Collapse

_We all felt it . . . the moment Ulquiorra died._

Sketched out on the sands as a mangled figure drawing, a wracked form laid punished by the position death had left him in.

For how long the dunes cradled his scarred corpse was void.

The skirmish between Nnoitora than that demonic _shinigami_ ended hours ago. Starrk stole the girl, the enemy stealing off in an attempt to stop Aizen. He'd been left in the past with Nnoitora's rancid bones.

A burning swell and upturn of power made his eyes blare open. Fizzling out, the sensation was alien, staining the cosmos which made up Las Noches. Ash scattered among their world, drifting into nothingness. The ethereal lust was like a god falling.

_The realization for more power . . . the unleashed potential . . . that was the most painful part._

A mutilated howl escaped somewhere within the sands, slipping in and out.

Silhouettes vaporized before him, then disappeared. His lashes shut out the world, weakness devouring him.

It was half a memory, hardly a dream.

_Aizen never returned._

_It wasn't as if Hueco Mundo would collapse without Aizen's guidance. It was almost as if he never appeared in the first place. His haven never mattered to me._

_Not until the Quincies showed up._

Faded turquoise eyes beheld three creatures, two shaking uncontrollably as they held on to one another before the _Sexta_ , the child in front like a protective shield, looking down at him with solemn grief. She knew he was dying too.

"M-Master Nel—!"

"Please, you can't!"

Wise beyond her years Nel spoke softly. " _It's what Itsugo would do_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read if you could:  
> I originally published this on Fanfiction in Feb '16. 5 years later I've decided to bring it to Ao3.  
> Not sure what compelled me to write the fic, but I wrote this as an offshoot of the canon, trying to beat and time my story along with the manga coming out each week (to its eventual, dissatisfying ending).  
> That first year I pushed out around 12 chapters, which to me is impressive and still a bit exciting.  
> In June of '17 I lost my mom and barely have kept momentum for Collapse since.  
> Strange enough, I never wanted to stop writing this story. It's always been on my mind. It's taken me much longer to complete, but not giving up on it matters to me even more. I want an ending. A good, decent end that Kubo couldn't give us.  
> There is a Bleach writer I admire greatly, and her writing really inspired me to continue Collapse. The way she writes the characters never feels off or false to what their actions might be, and her descriptions and detail are what some writers dream of creating.  
> I know, this is fanfiction, but holy crap good writing for a fandom is what we want, right?  
> I've since tweaked and edited the story to how I see it now as to then, again 5 years ago, and hope readers like it regardless.  
> Enjoy. <3


	2. Rogues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Collapse is based and related to the actual storyline of Bleach (more-or-less after chapter 635), but goes back to the disappearance of our favorite Espadas.

The first thing she noticed was where he hid the body.

Cold, _unseen_ , within the darkness of night. It was somewhere only Death understood, or one who had succumbed to it. One would always be able to find the dead if pursued amongst the shadows. Yet she must never ignore the glaring swag it occasionally passed in daylight. Death would heist an unsuspecting life as much as one prepared for him. It was something to be remembered. She had been trained well under Aizen's tutelage.

The unmarked gravesite was really the first time she ever felt an actual chill, cold fear bringing decrepit friends as the unopened tomb scattered misery from its callused awning. The arrogant veil soaked deep into her _hierro_ , feeling a parallel power before her as she moved forward. The home was deserted, pillars stark in color and crumbling under its own weight. If her armor wasn't nearly as skintight she would not have made it through the hairline gap which she split barehanded. Opening the crypt's center allowed his weakening reiatsu to seep through, homing in on the were-cat like a beacon.

He was hung like raw meat on a hook by the snag in his collar, frost parting the tangled sea of light-colored hair before his unopened eyes. Curiously he was abandoned, a feast forgotten though his _gift_ was ominously present.

Unmoving and unaware as the sword shredded through the jagged icicle, the _Sexta_ was swept from the frozen casket, lifeless and flushed by venom only a reaper could induce.

With a step away from darkness into the light of dawn, a _sonído_ severed reality and the woman vanished, the male in her arms nothing more than an unfortunate child, comatose by parasitic illness. A network of ideas passed by, the next step necessary to hurry the progression of Kisuke Urahara's plans.

The conflict would climax within days. Without another warrior to fight the battle was nigh.

Nel had to hurry.

* * *

The vigor darkness held over him was something astonishing. Never to admit something so trivial or idealistic outside his mind, its company was a comfort missing long since his lonely ascendance after Aizen's withdrawal.

A deep sigh rumbled somewhere in the darkness.

Abdicated by their thrones thanks to the Quinces loud " _reformation_ ," Hueco Mundo would never reach the heightened glory Las Noches' palace subdued ever more.

And thanks to _this_ particularly damaging Quincy, he might finally die. The darkness he'd been absorbing for some time now possessed him with sickening splendor. The _infection_ was growing rapidly within. The poison affected him more than he thought possible, especially to a being _supposedly_ able to counteract the Quincies abilities.

Without an antidote he was done.

And there it was again, the sound. It was a sigh, melancholic and shrill as a gasp for air.

His eyes barely opened as he came back into consciousness.

It didn't take long for the child's face to reappear in his vision, blob-like tears spilling from her eyes and muddling her small pink cheeks as they fell onto his face, drenched by the assailment. The girl began to hiccup annoyingly.

The only problem he realized too late was that he _was_ drenched. Last he remembered he'd been taken down by that flamboyant coward, tumbling and losing all sensitivity. Possibly sweat? Melting icicles?

_Or_ —

And all at once he was _slimed_.

Live electric eyes burst before his rival. Never before had Grimmjow screamed in such shock since his reincarnation. The clear slobber had obviously ruined his iconic 'do.

"YOU'RE _ALIVE_!" the child screeched with joy.

"Get _AWAY_ from me, brat!" and he sadistically shoved the girl away.

Without a chance for true weeping, Nelliel tu Odelschvank touched the crank on her bracelet and popped back into her older, mature form. Green hair the color of a peridot gem reached the ground from her kneeled position, her child-like body refigured by the shapes and attributes given to a grown woman. She wore dark mail for protection, curves streamlined with light grey fabric to enhance speed, ruffles of animal fur covering her skin like an extra _hierro_. There was a smirk on her lips, smiling eyes hidden beneath the shadow of her ram's mask. "What? Would you have wanted a kiss from a fair maiden instead?"

"Beats gettin' puked on!"

Ripping off his half-jacket, he beat it against the air in an attempt to cleanse it. Until it was dry and he felt less disgusted, Grimmjow rapidly snapped it through his hair and over his face and neck.

The vileness he felt toward the woman was infectious, yet Nel eyed him without scorn. Truly it must have been fun to tease the _Sexta_ , an overzealous sigh falling from her lips.

"What else was I to do? Let you suffer? Your reiatsu _reeked_ with that Quincy's poison. I was merely trying to revive you."

Grimmjow said something under his breath, indecipherable curses and crude in tongue. The formfitting black bodysuit he adorned was different without the jacket, custom-made and appealed better to his dangerous persona. Without completely forgetting the _wardrobe_ of a former Espada, the curved half-moon scar round his neck exposed itself against his _hierro_ , the open V showcasing the larger, older burn splayed across his chest. He wore them as reminders of his past, reminders to push forward. His body had been repainted so many times it was hard to distinguish which served as his proper flesh and which simply detailed the flaws he made as one of Aizen's " _elite_."

Grimmjow stuffed his arms through the sleeves in an attempt to recollect himself, fixing his jacket so he might appear his usual outer calm, laidback self.

Only on the inside was he steaming with murder.

She folded her arms in fake self-importance. Nel said, "You were nearly frozen to death in that tomb I found you in. It's no wonder you're soaked to the bone." He didn't seem to hear her. Nel added, "You ran off and got yourself poisoned by that Quincy. Without me you'd still be unconscious in that shack he stored you in. You're alive because of me."

" _DON'T_ make me owe you _another_ debt, _Nelliel_ ," Grimmjow snarled, and their eyes met, a turquoise stone against an earthen hazel.

He turned, knowing— _hating_ her for saving his life.

Grimmjow leapt from their secluded wasteland, allowing his _sonído_ to remove him from their crippled surroundings and on to higher ground in one blink. The pedestal found soared above the land and revealed what was left of the Holy world, stretching the distance into the heart of it all—the Quincies erotic fortress. The land shimmered like one imperfect crystal. Daylight against the frozen white world blinded any onlooker from seeing into the palace clearly, even with the best of vision. Being blind had its perks however. Grimmjow knew it would be an advantage to their party. The double-edged sword created invisibility in _his_ favor, rushing to the pulpit and slaying this damned Quincy king before the day would end.

The click of heels hitting the cold dais behind him meant he had been followed by an unwanted shadow. "How did you find me?" his words harsh like a storm.

Nel put a hand on Gamuza's hilt. "I can find you no matter where you go. You may not like it, but it's better than putting a collar on you." The fluctuation of reiatsu from him teetered between rage and annoyance. As she neared his side, there was almost strife in his tone.

"Why did you help me?"

Nel was just as expressive in her adult form as she normally was as a child. Her large eyes round in surprise, confusion pulling her lips into a wondering pout. The question was like rolling mist—elusive but eye opening. "Hm?"

Grimmjow repeated the question, commenting in a sarcastic tone if she was deaf.

Nel patronized the beast as he did, standing firm. "I am immune to toxins. I believe that is why Lord Aizen kept me close. So he would have a soldier to keep fighting. Even if they were thrown from existence," she ended in a soft mutter.

Grimmjow sneered. "Not that, Nelliel. We're risking everything to help Kurosaki and his crew. We listen to that _quack_ for so long and then what? Harribel's already dead. We're just here to clean up the mess they've made in our world. What's in it for you?"

She was quiet as she watched the jaguar's actions. He was mad for different reasons. She was just the misguided target for his current damnation. Then she spoke.

"Don't you get it? We're the last of the Vasto Lorde. We're a _dying_ breed. And you are a valuable warrior."

There was dry laughter. "We will never die," Grimmjow spoke even.

She stood at his side, looking out into the enemy's territory. The world was a silent sepulcher and would only last that way for so long.

"It's time to go. Ichigo can handle whatever crosses his path. I have no doubt."

The jaguar scoffed hotly.

With a touch of her hand to the center of her furred breastplate, she withdrew what appeared to be two oblong spheres of light.

"Let's go . . . _Pesche_ . . . _Dondochakka_ . . . "

She blew against the orbs and they burst forth like fireworks.

From the panels covering her bust, two creatures appeared to them with glee, one smaller and insectlike masked by horns and dressed in the colors of bruises, the other larger and large-eyed, obnoxiously spotted with polka dots and grinning with glee below his heavy nose. The two kneeled before Nel, their master and tutor, their comrade and friend.

Grimmjow nearly jumped, stunned and revolted from where the _fraccións_ appeared. "That's a ludicrous place to store your men."

She ignored Grimmjow. "Pesche. Dondochakka. You remember our plan? I need you to cause as much of a distraction as you can." She pointed out into the frozen world. "Shake up the remaining Sternritters and hustle them about. But don't get hurt. Understand?"

Though their expressions were doused by their masks, their enthusiasm was not stifled. "Yes, Master Nel!"

From there the two jumped from the top of the landing, freefalling to the surface of Wahrwald.

From the fall, Dondochakka's voice was concerned. "Hey Pesche, don'tcha think we shoulda used the stairs or somethin'?"

"Nonsense! How would we get anywhere if we walked? Ha!"

From their perch, the remaining Espada watched. Nelliel was clearly proud of her soldiers and acted like she couldn't have asked for better.

Grimmjow watched with distaste at their gamble, the two lessers' enthusiasm making him sick with disgust. Nelliel broke the silence, her light voice brushing Grimmjow with unwanted questioning. "By the way, where are yours?" She put up a hand to shield her eyes, in search for the former no. 6's _fraccións_. "I never thought to ask. Were they caught in the Quincy skirmishes in Hueco Mundo?"

He was silent for a moment, still watching as her two familiars rushed into the scene without hesitation. He shut his eyes and said plainly, "I lost them."

"Such a shame to lose those close to you." She tipped the edge of her mask with her thumb, alluding to the scar present on her face. "I nearly lost everything when Nnoitora threw me from Las Noches. If I didn't have them, I wouldn't have been able to return to who I am."

Still he remained silent. Nel watched him carefully.

That was when he sneered. "You think those two can actually do any damage? Hah! Give me a break. _Fraccións_ are expendable. Their loyalty is what what gets them killed."

He turned away, sliding Pantera out from its sheath.

"Grim—"

"You know what form of death I govern. _Destruction_." He said the word like it was a malignant cancer. "I hate everyone that looks down on me. I hated my men because of their adoration for me. I broke them because I sought power to rule them, so they could finally die for me." He was looking at his reflection within Pantera's blade, electric eyes shining as he remembered. "I'm the reason they're dead. I destroyed them by succumbing to my own sins. I have nothing left besides my hatred. For the Quincies, for Aizen, for _Kurosaki_ . . ."

With that, he took his sword and cut down a pillar in one clean strike, sending it to crumble before them.

The collapse barely made either shudder as it thundered south, the rubble avoiding the inhuman as if it were made to avoid monsters.

He slid Pantera back into its sheath, looking at the damage he'd caused with scarce pride.

Nelliel's hair caught the torrential current as she walked toward her partner, dust hardly coating her gem locks. "It is true that we were once beasts meant to fill the painful hunger within, but we've regained our reasoning for a purpose. If we despair all will be lost. There's no longer a need to fight against the _shinigami_ when we are the only two who can help them. Yhwach must be stopped no matter the cost."

Grimmjow did not move, his jacket coiling against the remaining air pressure. His fists were clenched, body rigid while everything turned to dust before the _Sexta_. The only cursed talent given to him would have to kill the king. For the first time since his _agreement_ , he wasn't sure if they alone could do it.

Nel turned, facing their barbaric future head-on. "You are my equal, Grimmjow. You know that as well as I do." She took a step into the sunlight. "Come. We must go."

* * *

There was something about fire that always pissed him off. Mainly it was the fact it would burn everything in its path, including him. He got burned _a lot_. The other was, _well_ , burns smelled fucking _terrible_.

If there was anything Askin Nakk le Vaar wanted to do it was take a bath back in the Imperial room where he and the other Schutzstaffel had been earlier, not _here_ , fighting against a lightening wielder and her combustion kid side-kick.

His body might have healed while that blast of incineration from the two destroyed everything around, but above all else his _clothes_ were damaged—he could heal himself, but he'd have to get a new outfit. That was depressing.

_White_ clothes, covered by ash and soot, got charred by lightening then scorched by flames. _Dear Lord_ , they _smelled_ like fire to boot. The silken, smoky taste was force fed into his mouth. His tongue rode his teeth to scrape off the flavor.

At least he took care of that kid and her keeper for the moment . . . or did she say he was a boy? Askin couldn't remember. He supposed he could have finished the two while he had the chance, but that would have taken too much effort. Yoruichi Shihôin would return to him soon either way. And he was ready for a nap.

Finding a high place to scope out any others from Kurosaki's gang (if they made it), he made himself at home and sat, relaxed among the iced fixtures.

But now he was bored.

"Oh, this is terrible," he complained. "All this running around and I lost my thermos too. That was some damn good coffee." From within the remains of his singed Sternritter's uniform he pulled out a magazine pilfered from the innards of the mad scientist's quarters, the strange one from 12th Company. Askin nearly balked at its title. "The _Seireitei Bulletin_? Good _Lord_. These soul reapers have _no_ taste."

Askin had barely given the writing a glance before he'd been lifted into the air by the burned scruff of his tailored collar, catching him by surprise. " _Hey_!"

A black gloved hand silenced his mouth while he hung like laundry in the air. Only it wasn't a glove.

He noticed the _claws_ attached to the gloves when they nearly sliced the long strand which fell in front of his face.

It was the blue-eyed wild man he fled from before. Before he could panic, Grimmjow threw him into the nearest wall like a ragdoll. " _Aaaahh_!"

Askin broke through the wall like it was made of gingerbread, pieces crumbling all around and flooding his lungs with icing-laced asbestos. Coughing from within the rubble, predatorial eyes once again found him and yanked at Askin's collar, pulling him out of the remnants nearly an inch from the beast's face. Askin gulped.

"We just have one question, _bastard_." And his eyes shone the fires of Hell though they were beautiful as Heaven.

" _Where is Harribel_?"


	3. Kiss of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: I do voiceovers on the side, and I always hear Chris Parnell's voice whenever I write Askin. Hope you will now too! :)

Askin Nakk le Vaar could play the fool.

His arms were crossed like a child's, haughty turn of the head in defiance as he sniffed at them, lips pursed for a smooch which would never arrive.

"I have no idea who you're talking about!"

There was a bored deadpan from the jaguar's face, sitting across from his Quincy prey and trying _very_ hard not to kill him. It was here that Grimmjow openly splayed his clawed fingers and raked them across his jugular, allowing the blood to drain from Askin's neck as he gurgled, feigning death.

"Grimmjow!" Nel reprimanded.

"He won't die, don't worry," he spoke evenly. "I'll just keep slitting his throat until he decides to give us an answer."

By the time his warped flesh returned to its normal color, the Death Dealer coughed and spat blood off his tongue. At least it was better than tasting smoking teeth. " _Ohhh_! I wouldn't try it," he belching more crimson. Askin's leg had been crushed in the wreckage thanks to the _Sexta_ —it the only reason he hadn't already ran. He would need to actually let his bones reset before the fighting commenced. His cool returned as he wiped the blood from his mouth. "You know I can kill the two of you with just a _vibe_."

Grimmjow sliced his claws across Askin's neck again, using more force and causing his jugular to break and pustule, but not as much blood was drawn. Then Grimmjow kneed Askin in the stomach, making him double over, leg twisting with another _crunch_. " _That's_ for leaving me on a hook for dead, bastard!"

Nel kept silent as the abuse worsened, watching her partner defile the Quincy and turning a blind eye to all he was doing. As one who abhorred violence, empathy for this Sternritter would not conclude their struggles. Least of all would it curb either's sins.

On the ground like a dog, Askin turned to look back at the tall shadow looming over. Grimmjow stepped on Askin's leg, breaking his fibula mechanically with the heel of his silver-plated boot. There was a sharp cry, spontaneous and radioactive as it permeated the air. The tread carved into his skin with jigsaw-like patterns, a bloom of swollen rose-violet peonies bruising fast as his body regurgitated bone. With a clenched fist he hissed at the _Sexta_ , pinned under the creep's weight barely by any pressure.

"I can cut off your leg if that's how you wanna play," Pantera only a few centimeters from his soaked pants. But Grimmjow thrust the sword higher, tip pointed at Askin's crown jewels. "Or we can make it interesting and see how quickly your _femoral artery_ heals after it's been severed."

Brown eyes narrowed, and a steam seethed from between Askin's snarling teeth. It danced into freedom from its cage, wisps of bizarre energy vaporizing the natural air.

And Grimmjow was his exceptional target.

Taken aback, a rushed hand sliced Pantera against the hot cloud in defense. It whirled round the blade like a lazy tornado, cornering the ex-Espada.

His state of mind darkened.

In a blink, windswept hair fluttered into his vision.

Nel appeared before him, standing as a guard to derail Askin's attack. She cradled the fusion with her hand as it reached her body, sipping the poison like a liqueur, sweet from his reiatsu and intoxicating her with his ability, understanding his technique better as she consumed him.

Both men were baffled at the sight, Askin clambering up a mausoleum's bone-white exterior as she neutralized his poison.

Disappearing past her lips, there was a pleased exhale. Nel gave a satisfied burp, touching a palm lightly to her mouth with modesty.

"God be _damned_ ," Askin said, nearly impressed at the sight. He had managed to stand on his own two feet, captivated by Nelliel's strength. It was enough to keep him within their reach. "That was some of my most lethal dosage. How are you _not_ dead?"

 _Sonído_ sent the two men colliding, Askin's head smashing against another pillar.

The aftershock allowed glasslike fractures skitter up the bone column until it split. Crystallized earth propelled from the impact, dousing Askin with dirt. He hung from Grimmjow's clenched fist like a wind chime, several feet off the ground and nearly as aggravating with the musical quality of his groaning.

Grimmjow jabbed a thumb behind him, Nelliel smiling prettily and waving her hand. "Immunity. Life's a bitch, ain't it?"

He eyed the crazy man with vehemence, sniffing at the idea. " _Immunity_? Don't fool yourselves. All creatures can hold out only for so long, _beast_. I have a feeling that goes the same for you arrancars. I can keep healing myself until you're ACTUALLY dead this time around, no _gift_ ball necessary."

Grimmjow gave a sharp sadistic grin, his reiatsu flaring as he took the challenge like a friend out to dinner. "I _love_ making it interesting."

A hand bunched the fabric of Grimmjow's collar, Nel dragging the _Sexta_ away from Askin before more damage could be done, allowing him to fall on his behind. " _Oof_!"

Chips of ice kicked about, Grimmjow's plated heels whittling new flakes in the horrid wintry world. "What are you _doing_?!" He was being yanked like a child to be scolded, eyes flaring just the same.

"Enough. We need answers. We can't keep torturing him without getting something in return." Grimmjow shrugged off Nel's hand with a jerk, allowing him to when she was satisfied with the distance between them and Askin. The former _Tres_ narrowed her eyes. "Getting off on seeing him bleed doesn't count either."

He gave her a dirty look, Nel staring elsewhere to confirm her suspicions. Pantera's tip gravitated at her nose. " _Back off_. Easing into this takes you too damn long. Let me _finish_ it and we'll be on our way."

" _Indeed_." The light in her eyes dulled, he knowing _exactly_ how far south she was staring.

Grimmjow's lip curled in aggravation. "You want to find her body? I'll _beat_ it out of him."

Nel rolled her eyes.

Askin arched a penciled eyebrow to their cute whispering. If there was one thing he was good at it was screwing with his opponents, and an opportunity like this was almost too good to pass. Or he could run away again. There was that. He was pretty fast given a head start with an _unbroken_ leg.

Maybe throwing the Hollows a scrap of meat would keep them off his back for a while, maybe long enough to knock off that _lightening thief_ too.

He chimed, "You're looking for, I'm sorry. _Halibel_ , was it?"

Askin was sitting crossed-legged casually with a comedic smile.

The expressionless glares on their faces told him everything, the electricity in Grimmjow's eyes glowing brighter. "Oh, _yes_. It seems I've hit the nail on the head. You want to know if she's alive, don't you?"

In a flash Pantera sat parallel with his carotid artery, Askin eyeing Grimmjow annoyed. " _C'mon_. Really? You're not _really_ going to try that again, _are_ you?"

"What do you know? Tell us and we'll let you go," Nel offered as a truce.

Askin gave a hearty laugh. " _Let_ me go?" Then he paused. "Anyone who can swallow my _Kiss of Death_ and survive deserves my respect, I suppose." He licked his lips, flicked his eyes to the sword in a suggestion that it should be removed otherwise he'd clam up pretty damn quick.

The male arrancar withdrew, _he_ suggesting more lesions if Askin fucked around.

His brown eyes only sought Nel. "We aren't given the specifics. Names have no meaning to our Lord if He sees them unfit. Your Queen? Tier . . . Halibel?"

" _Harribel_."

"Never heard of her. Not since she was . . . _dethroned_ anyway."

"Enough of your bullshit. Where are you keeping her?" Grimmjow's tone was surprisingly steady for one profusely agitated by this guy.

Both ignored him.

"Why are you telling us?" It was Nel who spoke, concerned and ready to take flight.

Askin eyed the female arrancar. "Lord Yhwach sees everything. He probably knows I'm betraying Him as I speak, but bringing you there in person, as a _lame_ hostage, isn't my style. You know I like to fight dirty, big guy," he muttered to Grimmjow, causing a flicker of interest in the man's wild eyes. "He'll know you're coming before you've even moved." He eyed them with vileness. "He ate the Soul King. Ate 'im right up. What do you THINK He's gonna do if you walk right up to Him? _With_ your swords drawn?"

There was silence, numbness.

With his full hand Grimmjow struck Askin across the face, skewering his nose in the process. The Sternritter of the benevolent Schutzstaffel shrieked, toxic blood shooting from his wound like a water fountain.

" _We're done_."

The former Espada turned; Grimmjow flicked the flesh from his nails, Pantera resting on his shoulder; Nel quickly shunning the Quincy she thought might concur to armistice.

 _Immunity_? Still it was funny thinking about it. They _weren't_ immune—not by a long shot. He didn't deal with death because he enjoyed it, it simply was a pact made with a devil. And Lord Yhwach was _not_ a true devil yet.

Maybe.

Just a _scrap_. That's all he'd give 'em.

Reattaching his nose to his skin with the sound of a suction cup, he baled.

"You'll never find her. She's not here. Not in this world, or the next. Only _He_ can find her. Tier Halibel was Yhwach's prize to claim. Only two people can find her, and I'm not one of them."

Nel responded promptly, a hand outstretched to silence Grimmjow. "Who?"

"Jugram Haschwalth. Uryû Ishida."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also Denis Leary for Grimmjow. Think about it . . .


	4. Fatal Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimm & Nel's camping trip doesn't go so hot :/

There was a polar vortex swirling around the castle's eaves, wind dropping and shocking the air with its violence. Daylight grew stronger, shadows reaching out like long arthritic fingers as the world moved.

A composite of icy wind surged through the gap of a reformed bell tower, howling in soft bellows at the passerbys. _Sonído_ guided them like bandits to the holy _crèche_ by off-white hues, avoiding the blue currents of glacial freeze as they gained ground.

Askin hadn't given them much, but knowing was enough.

Harribel lived.

_Cold_. _Unseen_. _Within the darkness_. _Somewhere only Death understood_.

The sky fell, heaving sighs of bitterness as it pricked slim needles to their cheeks.

It was the same feeling that disturbed Nel as before, that emulation of power soaking deep into her _hierro_. Rescuing Grimmjow from the tomb was only one slivered fraction of this mirror facing them. The fortress felt like a sea. She rested briefly, snapping to a halt. Grimmjow noticed and followed suit, glaring from several roofs over. " _What_?"

There was a beat. Nel sensed her friends afar, felt the mutated pathways birthing action as she lead her partner to the center. She felt the seeping ooze radiate, boasting power and sickening influence as it held her body within its palm. Then it whispered with a sweet vibrato, nauseating her soul.

"This place is strange."

" _Hm_? How so?"

"My _pesquisa_ tells me that Ichigo is near, but I cannot sense from which direction. I feel these corridors are leading us to the heart of the new world."

" _Heart of the new world_? Did your brain catch fever with those holes in your mask?"

About to move, a vibe of caution harrying Grimmjow caused paralysis. Emotions of anguish washed over, dying energies beckoning him to their final graves. The familiar taste was in his mouth, blood lingering heavily in the air. Nel noticed it as well, smoothly landing by his side.

"I smell death. The scent is stifling," she said wafting it away from her nose with a sour face.

" _Quincies_ were butchered here, and not too long ago judging by the strength of the smell."

He found the Sternritter corpses nearby, eschewed from the castle and mangled by their fall. Blood had hit the earth with a bang, exploding out farther than one thought possible. Two females possibly, onyx hair matting one's planted face, the other small as a child, her gut inverted like an aroused volcano as it bled out.

There was one other at a distance, almost dead. He gargled bile and clotted blood from his mouth, suffering immensely. He somehow managed to survive the descent, freefalling from several stories judging from the smell his body chafed against the jaguar's nose.

Blood nearly licked his boots as he passed the children, rolling off their broken bones and tarnishing the upturned ground.

Grimmjow raised Pantera as he went to slay the half-dead Sternritter—except he was already dead.

Skin gray, glazed eyes roaming, knees broken and unable to walk or fight, it spewed a mouth of fire as the _Sexta_ approached.

He was laying in a pool of browning blood, mixed with the gravel of Wahrwald and splattered by the paint of a corroded zombie. The Sternritter snarled, revved up his flame-throwing for another attack at Grimmjow.

About to step in and _ease_ this poor fuck's torment, Nel touched his wrist, sending a sharp jolt through the man. "We must be careful. We could be next." She pointed to the line of blood he nearly let tarnish his silver spurs.

Her partner sneered. "One less enemy to kill. Makes it easier for us."

"Grimmjow, I may be immune but you're still vulnerable. If he hits you with an attack you could die. We must stick to the plan Mr. Urahara talked about. If we stray—"

" _Hah_! That con only knows so much."

"He knows a great deal more than _you_."

"Hmph."

The choice of not killing a dead man—or killing someone who _couldn't_ be killed? The choices went to hell right there.

With a _tsk_ , the Espadas disappeared, finding themselves on top of the colossal _crèche_. A swell of dark matter caused a ripple against their hair, making the hues dance in the light like true gemstones. They hopped off the wall and into a corral of spattered ice and blood, Gamuza waiting at the ready while Pantera hung freely. Nel breathed in the decomposing exhaust, ventilating her lungs worse than Askin Nakk le Vaar's poison ever did, the _Sexta_ experiencing his own share of a yellow fever.

" _It's unfortunate. So unfortunate_ . . ."

Writhing shadows pushing out and wriggling in erratic pulsations made their blood run cold. A shroud of eyes peered at them from the darkness, then another, then another, like the lips of a wound opening. His jinxed skin was given accents by the cracks of daylight, those arthritic fingers reaching out to pull them in.

Yhwach grinned at them from within the throne room.

" _Come, my children_. Your fortunes are about to change."

They hadn't entered the _heart_ ; the heart consumed them as it spun into their bodies and sucked them before the King.

The plan Nelliel had been given was already failing.

A flick of blood crossed her nose, a sound like the strike of a match, and with hardly a glance Nel leapt for cover as light dissolved everything.

A sound, ear-rupturing against the glasslike structure of ice, hammered a babel of echoes from the world as the Quincy fell in a nuclear blast of flames and reiatsu. Pinpointed at one target, Grimmjow blinded the world with his intake of energy, burning the castle with delight as he ruptured the fabric of existence. The palace top was decimated; a crucified home meaning all was lost on _their_ "new world."

For a moment everything was gone.

An undulating glow warped the palace. Grimmjow stood in the middle of the orange-red flames, almost unimpressed while bits of the roof continued to drop at his feet, crumpling before a new ruler.

Frazzled from her hair nearly catching fire Nel reappeared, squeaking out, "The _Gran Rey Cero_?!"

His tattooed eyes narrowed, teeth sharpening at the smoky figure dancing behind his inferno.

There was a glint within the fire, fragile and small, a silver-blue hanging above the flames. " _Of course,_ " Grimmjow cursed. The Quincy cross hung round his neck, the charm protecting him against the great king's flame without so much as a lone singe to his cloak.

With a wave, the cero's hellflame subsided, rushing away like a tide back to the sea. The Espadas were left in the open, a charred pergola compressed atop the reformed world.

Espadas were not allowed to experience fear. Fear was a form of weakness exploited by the enemy, and if present they were not worthy of being titled _Elite_. They were to govern a form of death and only through that form were they to die. _Solidarity_. _Madness_. _Ecstasy_. _Greed_. _Rage_. _Nothingness_. _Despair_. _Time_. _Sacrifice_. _Destruction_.

"Do you fear me, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques? Nelliel tu Odelschvank?" He said their names as if love filled his heart.

_There was one unspoken form of death_.

"I see through your scheming, _arrancar_. You will not win. Like my pawns you will fall. _One_ ," he pointed at Grimmjow, " _by one_ ," his gaze fell to Nelliel.

_Splitting the soul apart_.

With a jolt of lightening surging up from the floor into their feet both Espada screamed.

"I knew you were coming. I could see it all along." Yhwach strode casually to the epileptic creatures, visible electricity jumping through their _hierro_ into their bloodstream.

The intensity of the pain made seeing impossible. Large tears formed in Nel's eyes and bubbled down her cheeks, causing worse sparks to plague her.

Grimmjow could barely steady himself on the palace floor, snarling and howling, trying to make his own reiatsu expel this Quincy bastard's curse. He gave a murderous look to the king, damning him to Hell.

Some of the ugliest Hollows assumed shapes like shrouded nightmares in order to find and feast their prey easier, and all eyes upon those lone creatures in Hueco Mundo never disgusted him as much as the ghoulish being before him—not human, not demon.

Yhwach chided them like stupid children.

"What you two take pride in are the _monstrosities_ within you." With a gesture for them to _give_ , both their swords flew into Yhwach's open palms, Gamuza tearing out of Nelliel's sheath, Pantera _reclaimed_ as if Grimmjow never owned part of his soul.

" _No_! Gamuza! _Aaahh_!" The shocking vertigo only worsened at her outcry.

He ignored her ache, Yhwach's smile slipping out. Her pain was pleasing, treasuring the moment of how His people would never fear another Hollow, Arrancar, or Espada evermore. "If I am to cleanse this world, I need to expose its weaknesses and flaws before I can extricate Wahrwald to its zenith. As for the two of you," and again He crossed to them, only with Pantera and Gamuza raised with precision, " _you will not exist while I live_."

Grimmjow and Nelliel rose upward, suddenly eagle-spread in the air before the King. Electricity crackled between the two, infinitely twisting between the _Sexta_ and _Tres_ and transferring the pain in a never ending symbol. Latched by chains of _His_ command, Grimmjow thrashed against the invisible bonds wildly, slicing the warfingers apart with black claws until exhaustion began to weaken the beast. Yhwach watched His victims beneath His cover of disfigured eyes, using his shadows to strangle Grimmjow, cutting into his throat deeply until blood flowed. Nel had been gagged by the dark spirits, muffled shouts going silent.

Their bodies were open for slaughter.

Nel quieted down, but a silent resolve came to her weeping eyes. There was a shaking within the cocoon she was trapped by, and Nel opened her mouth for a cero of her own, watching her partner refuse to give in. With a last violent attempt, Grimmjow riled up his remaining reiatsu, about to blow over this freak's hold. He called out to his other half for power.

" _GRIND_ —!"

Nel screamed in agony, her head flying back. The right side of Grimmjow's face was slick, blood pouring from his jaw . . .

. . . Turquoise eyes saw the thing, hot and slick as he slumped forward, the mouth wetting a bloody kiss as it bubbled and dripped. The _cold_ he felt within his chest where his heart might have been, had the arrancar ever had such a thing, he realized, felt . . . _wrong_. And he knew the feel—sleek, powerful, deadly.

Pantera's blade had been shoved through his sternum, tearing through his white jacket and skittering blood like a spider's web.

Nelliel was on her knees, bowed in the same position—Gamuza had found purchase through her flesh. Her ram's mask had been sliced off, scalping the beauty's head and matting her tresses with heavy blood.

Shaken, taken by surprise, Grimmjow snarled at the Quincy, ebony talons pulsating to strike. He wasn't fast enough.

With a harsh yank, Yhwach pulled both swords from the Espada's chests. Both gasped sharply when removed.

Holding both Pantera and Gamuza high for them to witness, their blood melded with the steel, mutating the blades into long black curves.

Both collapsed before the King, Grimmjow pressing a hand to stop some of the bleeding. The predator within roared, and Yhwach seemed to smile under His cloak of eyes.

"Savages will be disposed of. Hollows will die. You will die, my children."

The sea of reiatsu rumbled, causing all things to collapse. Columns holding what was left of the ceiling broke and revealed the sky above, cloudy and stirred in foamy ripples. Daylight had grown stronger over the short period of time, and His strength matched the outside world. His voice was loud and clear, announcing a cry to his brethren. " _Haschwalth_. _Uryû_. _Enough_. We're going back." With a _snap_ in the air a rift opened, Yhwach stepping into what looked like one of their _Gargantas_ , the waves vibrating at such a frequency the world beyond was a blur.

Taking His prizes to cherish, Yhwach turned back, speaking to the former _Sexta_ directly. " _You_ may find pleasure in destruction, but know you will never eradicate the damage I've caused to you and your friend."

He laughed demonically and was gone.

_Beat_.

The world had grown so much _more_ since his departure, becoming more vivid, more _vital_ in the spare ounces they needed to survive.

_Beat_.

Something was wrong. There was ragged breathing— _he_ was _breathing—_ as he struggled not to shut his eyes from the pain—and he could _take_ pain. A problem was that he was _warm_ —the blood running free from his skin had a hot temperature. It was almost as if he was actually . . . _alive_. He touched his cheek, blood running over his fingers.

His jawbone was _gone_. Sliced clean off. _No_ . . . His eyes grew wide.

_Beat_.

And what was _that_? The _pulse_ in his chest. It wasn't _possible_ —they were Hollows, spirits— _dead_.

_Beat_.

A realization overcame Grimmjow and he howled.

Voices were shouting, shouting at them.

He glared at the sound, focused on two people running toward him and Nelliel. Their faces were aghast, fear washing over the girl with the lewd outfit's face as she ran faster. It was that little shit Kurosaki and the girl Aizen had kidnapped all that time ago. She gasped, running over to try and comfort Nelliel. They were mere _seconds_ late.

Their sounds were disruptive and foreign. Grimmjow managed to stand, palm holding so much blood he'd need a transplant. 

Kurosaki had balls trying to demand an answer as to where he ran off to, what had happened, _questioning._ _Him_. All his shouting fell silent on Grimmjow's ears, ignoring the _shinigami_ while he could. He eyed Nelliel's fallen form, cradled in the girl's arms as she tried to use her healing ability atop her scalped crown.

His eyes looked around the ash.

Her mask was absent from the throne room, disappeared coincidentally with the King.

" _Damn it_ , Grimmjow! _ANSWER ME_!"

At that he got livid and pulled at the Kurosaki's haori. He stared at the brat hoping his look would kill his rival from the inside. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU LITTLE SHIT?!"

Grimmjow ripped apart his bodysuit with his fingers, shredding the black fabric to reveal his plight. "He made us . . . _human_!"


	5. Human

Patterns had been forming all throughout the Wahrwald.

The ritual featured the side-stepping of enemies, the short stomps of direct confrontation, the dicing of arrows by sword, the hardy beat of fists disrupting facial patterns as they themselves avoided getting slugged in the mask.

A barbed club swung down on a man, sending him to seek shelter from the blast he nearly would've been crushed by.

Declared as two of the weakest _fraccións_ to be placed under the ruling of a _second-rate_ Espada, one who _chose_ when to fight _herself_ , at one time they would have agreed they weren't worth much to their superior.

But today they mattered.

Leaping from Dondochakka's back, the smaller of the duo impaled the chest of a soldat with a sharp toss from the air, his huge companion pounding his club into the Quincy like a nail into the bark of a tree. The pawn fell, his death not felt among his cohorts in the slightest.

Quincies were strange humans indeed.

They fought for pride.

They fought because they were terrified.

Their smell was difficult to describe, because of how much reishi rebounded from the arrows they sought to strike the remainder of the Three Brothers with. The boys dodged them easily enough—going through all that training with their master and that genius scientist had its superb perks. It allowed the _fraccións_ better reaction time, winning confidence and some cockiness on Pesche's part, and above all, to strike when the iron was _hot_.

Combining their abilities a spiral of green neon power was released into the soldats with a fiery expulsion, pushing them out and away with monstrous domination.

There was stillness, the _crik_ of ice and crumble of eaves dropping onto the new world. A joyous shout was amplified as a flash of accomplishment from the white-masked superior leapt about with glee as the dust settled. " _Hah hah_! Take that you filthy _scum_!" Pesche triumphed enthusiastically, a fist punched in victory. Dondochakka's large grin was infectious. The satisfaction in his smile mirrored the cheering leaps and hollers from his partner. With these fighters out of the way it meant they would soon be reunited with their master, possibly with the chance for an early celebration in succession of the war's end. It was a delight thinking about it.

Pesche stripped his sword from the dead Quincy's chest, staking his claim over the battlefield. "Right! Master Nel and that _madman_ will be waiting for us, Dondochakka. We should . . ."

There was a dip in spiritual pressure, a cold press which fanned out into feathery nothingness. The duo perked at the elusive feeling, a cold sweat creeping.

The propulsion from the entity glittered like stardust, falling swiftly and dropping out as her light hit the ground and scattered.

All at once she was gone.

Dondochakka gasped. " _Pesche_!"

His partner stood somehow erect, fists shaking from death's luminescent sway.

_Humans_.

Furious _heilig pfeil_ arrows whistled as they flew and struck the ground where they clutched to one another frozen by shock, Nelliel's _fraccións_ overcome and bombarded by an unexpected second assault.

_So full of life. Such fragile things_.

Aftershocks cracked the surface with a blast so violent it split the two, bodies tangling through the air like misdirected rockets.

"Pesche!"

" _Dondochakka_!"

Any remaining strength fled at the second death of their master.

And this time she was truly gone. Neither a child nor woman. No longer one of their kind or something in between.

Whether that meant she had . . . _transcended_ . . . or not.

The _fraccións_ dropped like obsidian rocks, charred and nearly shattering their burnt masks like porcelain.

_Weak . . . moronic . . . sinful . . ._ _What_ _the hell were they truly good for other than a tasteless snack?_

Their groans were covered by the sizzling _twang_ of reishi-stretched arrows, Quincy archers releasing their shots to kill.

Useless as a newborn, Pesche shut his eye to the sight.

Arrancars could die, but _Espada_ lived forever.

—Maybe it was best to fall knowing their master died fighting.

_In death, you can never die_. . . .

* * *

. . . The slice on his neck was like a curved grin, lips of the wound glossed with a red sheen, a permanent fixation for another's eyes. Only _his_ eyes weren't looking at the ruby gash.

"Human?"

Kurosaki blinked stupidly. " _Human_?" He repeated the word as if it were impossible.

The hollow hole that previously sat on the lower half of Grimmjow's abdomen had been replaced by muscular flesh, abdominal muscles strong against his lean body. Kurosaki stared for far too long at the same spot, awkwardly fixated on the lack of hole as if it would reappear like a magic trick.

Grimmjow forced him away, hatred overcoming the former Espada as a strange heat seared his cheeks.

His chest _ached_. The slit exiting his back _stung_. The wounds were numerous.

And Nel had lost too much blood. Orihime held her unconsciously weeping form with pity, her power already enveloped to reduce the swell of her brain. It took a strong stomach not to vomit over the sight, Nelliel's head scalped clean, eyes devoid of life. The girl's pure white pants had been colored with heavy iron, her Soten Kishun covering the heady smell like a thick membrane. Kurosaki's lips set in a thin line, probably swallowing back bile, quelling his emotions though they were clearly eating him within.

Grimmjow watched carefully, observing his reaction with curiosity. He expected anger and madness. He even expected him to seek chase. He got nothing of the sort.

Kurosaki's concern for the fallen Espada was all that sufficed. " _Nel_ . . ."

It began like a steady knead, _hierro_ weaving back into the proper placement on her head.

Holding to patience firmly the wide pool of blood reverted, being drowned out by Orihime's impressive power. Lush hair grew and replaced the pulsations of overlapping skin.

Acquiring the misshapen tumbles of a roughhoused look, the flow of growth from her hair ended in thick tresses. Strangely her mask did not return. Grimmjow expected to witness horns coiling from the gray mask, rough teeth and blunt chipped snout and empty eye sockets looking out into the lonely world.

He got nothing of the sort.

Orihime's power shattered; Nel's peridot head untouched other than the previous scar across her face. " _No_." A nervous gulp and the girl tried again to heal Nelliel. It shattered a second time, refusing to continue with unnecessary treatment. The _Tres_ slept on Orihime's lap like an infant, perfectly ageless and beautifully retouched. She nearly looked human, minus her long fuchsia blush and green gemstone locks.

Grimmjow looked on, knowing their encounter had been a fatal act.

Orihime was nearly speechless.

"Inoue, what's going on? Why doesn't she have her mask?" their _savior_ asked immediately, worry turning in his stomach.

"I-I can't bring back her mask. I can only heal her wounds. I . . . I can't reject the damage!"

At that Orihime reached into the open slit of her large bust and pulled out what looked like a six-starred device.

Kurosaki stepped forward in alarm, Orihime freezing him with a look. "We need to get them out of here, _now_!"

She pressed the center, the large Shun Shun Rikka clipped to her hair illuminating like a starlit ocean and sparkling like sequins. Nelliel's armor glowed with yellow light as did Kurosaki's; Grimmjow's belts alighting with a burning white.

Both men acknowledged strange sunspots dissipate brightly, a part of each being's aura dividing into four identical parts. Each glow hovered in four separate directions and began to rotate at super-speed. Instantly a bright halo encircled the four, swirling and twisting in excitement as wind kicked up, Orihime's hair blasting about under the open sky of the assailed broken _crèche_. A capsule rose like the sun across the sky and set from one side to the other, enclosing them and glowing with a strong fusion of yellow-gold as the warp transformed their surroundings.

The cold of Wahrwald faded out and they were back in Yukio's box, some form of Riruka's power allowing them access to the private quarters.

Kurosaki was just as baffled as to how they got there without so much as a _Garganta_ to cross through, or steps to climb, as he was when he tried to get Yoruichi to confess all the secrets they'd _all_ eluded from him.

Orihime panted somewhat, a bead of sweat on her brow. The travel charm she'd acquired took more out of her than she realized. At least it had worked.

She lifted her eyes to Grimmjow, still hurt.

With an outstretched hand her Shun Shun Rikka shot to Grimmjow, covering his body with their healing warmth. He released his palm from the puking slit through his chest, allowing her to heal him. Time regressed; his blood reverted, restitching his bodysuit and patching up the mortal wound he'd cheated death with. The crimson web across his back dispelled as Orihime's power erased the Quincy's dark chokehold from his throat, deep cut also fading in the golden light.

It chose to move higher, but he refused.

"Leave my face."

Her gray eyes widened. "But—!"

" _Do as I say_!" he snapped.

The girl's fairies finished quickly and relieved him from their presence. Grimmjow smeared the blood from his cheek, the display causing the girl to wince, guessing she'd imagine burned flesh instead of _raw muscle_.

Nel stirred against Orihime's lap, moaning weakly. Kurosaki kneeled at her side, a knight awaiting orders.

Grimmjow stayed away, watched from afar against the wall. He'd been desensitized from emotion ever since he'd been reborn. It didn't feel right to be near them.

Her large eyes blinked, and blinked again. The world surrounding her was dizzying, faces swimming and spinning like coins.

She focused on the man across from her, bloody and expressionless as Grimmjow waited for her to revive. His blue eyes were like ice, freezing her heart in her disoriented state. " _My head hurts_ ," she told them in a childish voice, weak and young.

The teenagers looked to one another, uncertain of what to do or say next.

Nel sat up abruptly on her own, staring in wonder at the mysterious man so closed off in their small world, obviously hurting while he remained in personal isolation. The teens made active noise, and she stared blindly at the boy. Knowing who he was and not knowing. The tufts of bright orange hair allowed her a free guess. " _Itsygo_?" she asked quietly.

Kurosaki opened his mouth to say something and instead nodded. He gave a soft smile. "I'm glad you're alright, Nel," he said.

That was when she began to sniff, a bubbling of tears streaking her cheeks as she cried loudly. Nel fell into Kurosaki's chest and wrapped her arms around the teen roughly, _thankfully_ not strangling him to death. As a child in Hueco Mundo it was natural for weeping and easier to accommodate though annoying as it sometimes was. As an adult it was hard because her pain was so strong and full of pure anguish.

Kurosaki's protective relationship over her also made it difficult to not get attached to. Kurosaki frowned, pat her head to lull her tears, imagining the child he once protected. "Please don't cry, Nel."

She continued to sob, to sniff, coughing raggedly when her lungs gave out, unused to having to actually _breathe_ with them.

The _shinigami_ looked to Orihime, she using her power to repeal the blood from her harem pants. "What do we do now?"

" _I'll tell you what_ ," said Grimmjow, stepping away from the wall and back into their lives. "We track the bastard down and get our shit back, that's what!"

He edged toward the far wall where he knew the staircase would bring him back. It would only take a push of his painted hand—and his way was blocked by the _princess_.

She had a determined look on her face, but it was one he'd seen before and broken all the same. "Move it, _onna_."

She bristled at the term but kept her eyes on him. "You can't leave. Until we understand what's happening, you're under quarantine."

" _What_?!" If that word had been a knife he would have struck her with it.

She didn't back down. "You're _hurt_. You— _we_ —we don't _know_ what Yhwach did to you. Nel's in a state of shock. You—"

"I _know_ what state I'm in, girl. _Doesn't mean you can stop me_." Grimmjow put his hand on Orihime's shoulder to shove her away, except a hand placed itself on his own and gripped.

He glared behind him. He figured Kurosaki was trying to be the damn _hero_.

It was Nelliel.

Kurosaki was awestruck, as if watching Superman about to subdue a villain.

Her eyes were glassy yet her gaze was strong.

"Release your hold on Orihime, Grimmjow."

There was a noise of disapproval, a faint predator's growl. The girl was released, body mostly untouched by vile hands.

She did not look so imposing without the ram's mask to stare blankly out at the world. Judgment remained however.

Her eyes focused and cleared, wishing him to stop such behavior before it got him in trouble. And with her it _would_ be trouble.

She raised an eyebrow, face passive as she continued to look him over. She settled upon his steely gaze. "Heal your face, fool. You're _hardly_ a threat without your mask."

The anger at that comment rumbled in his chest like thunder. Nelliel downplayed her annoyance as easily as she'd normally do waving him off.

Grimmjow exchanged a brief glance with the girl.

His face fleshed out in seconds.

He watched them with eyes cold as the sky. His jawbone did not return. _Human_ in every characteristic, excluding his shade of hair color and permanent eye makeup.

It was enough to make the teens realize, maybe they _were_ in over their heads.


	6. Branded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimm's in a mood, per use. Nel's the stoic kingsman, trying not to punch him in the face :)

Time was paused within this shadow outside the True World. To the outside cosmos it was a blank, nothing more than a cherished orb hanging between space and time. An entity all its own, it was . . . _strange_ , a creation breathing as much as its two visionaries beyond the wall's genuine veil. Within the Valley of Screams, this essential checkpoint was also a risk to their suspension of time.

What felt like thirty seconds could wind up being the extent of several hours in the True World if attention wasn't held. People would die in this time. Another day would pass. The Quincy King would only grow stronger.

 _Time ticked_ _. . ._

. . . Nel explained their journey, what happened between her and Grimmjow, the " _reclamation_ " of their swords by Yhwach.

Her speech gained in strength the more she spoke, enunciating each syllable carefully until her childish lisp departed.

The abolition of their powers had been told with songlike inflection, a twisted version of child's a pop-up book. The so-called humanity Grimmjow boldly stated to Kurosaki in a spur of rage seemed illogical, even with the lack of masked bone sprouting from their bodies.

A sentence was tossed, possibly to lighten the confusion. "He made us whole again."

Kurosaki was still unconvinced. "But _how_ are you human? It seems . . . _impossible_!"

Grimmjow had been leaning against the wall, arms folded and leg propped to give the very idea of cool as he listened and waited. It was truly remarkable how _dense_ this kid could be.

"He spit our souls in half. Yhwach left an imprint on us, just like every other Quincy." His blue eyes flashed open, a spark of light reflected in his vision as he beheld the true humans. "He grows stronger with every death. By splitting us from our blades we can't be "resurrected." Our blades won't return to us. We're missing half of our soul. Without our abilities we're _nothing_." The spite from that one word was felt like a hatchet in the supernatural being's chest, a heavy blow meant to kill.

Orihime spoke up. "Are you . . . both without power?"

The look Grimmjow gave the girl condemned her very core—hadn't he _just_ explained their predicament?

"There is some left within me. I can feel it," Nel said suddenly, catching Grimmjow off guard.

"Gamuza makes up half my soul. But not all my power resides within my blade." She took a moment, overthinking her condition. "I may have the physical appearance of a human, but Yhwach is a fool if He believes we've become inept." She looked to her partner standing near. "You say we've been made _whole_ , but I know you feel _it_ inside."

Grimmjow looked through her, trying to find _what_ she spoke of. It was an ironic question.

Espada were not allowed to _feel_. There were rules of conduct they followed in the beginning under Aizen's regulation, and to this day the ideals personified through their higher rank still met censorship even after his withdrawal.

They could not show pain. They could not cherish. They could not love. Any eccentricity could liken them to a human, which spelled instant death.

In turn, the spectrum of emotions an Espada dealt with surrounded their management over a classified death. Expressions allowed to emote could only involve their type of death, the one they would fall by.

And here she was risking him to _feel_. Nelliel was truly a rash oddity.

Grimmjow focused on his open hand, staring at it and willing it to do as he commanded. Cultivating any remaining drop of reiatsu, his prolonged focus nearly triggered an outburst.

An absence of color washed over his hand as if he'd dipped it into a poisoned ocean. It was quick like a fever, black as oil. Spreading over his palm with rapid haste, tapered claws appeared _manicured_ —feeble and ineffective—than murderous. Then it seized, stopping short past his wrist, serrated lines quivering as they sought to lurk higher.

He'd wanted longer claws to slash Kurosaki with. Nothing was more irksome than witnessing his body disobey him.

He shook away his taloned hand, returning to the one of a normal man as he sneaked it into his pants pocket. "It's not much. Our mission has deterred indefinitely."

That was a slap to the spiky-haired youth's ego. "WHAT? You have your own missions?! Why the hell won't any you guys tell me _anything_?!" Orihime laughed bashfully with a shrug as Nel looked off. Grimmjow was only more aggravated.

"Piss off, Kurosaki. We had our own mission. _We_ have our _own_ problem. Take care of your issues by killing the King," he spat, heat rolling from his mouth like a dragon about to burn. The task of killing the Quincy jumped from man to man and it was a pain in the ass. "This doesn't concern you."

"This _does_ concern me! It concerns _ALL_ of us!" he retorted, butting heads with the _Sexta_ as easily as he'd might blow his nose.

As Grimmjow was about to jump the brat, Nel stood between the two.

"We're in a pocket dimension. Harribel is in one as well. We just need to find her."

" _Tch_. And how many do we need to get through to find her? We don't have our _pesquisas_ anymore. We can't sense her reiatsu through these _walls_." And he hit the wall with his fist roughly to cause heavy tremors. A screen filled by the black-and-white image of a young boy appeared above them. There was a gray-green eye which peered at Grimmjow with annoyance.

"Do you mind? I really don't appreciate when you try to break the things I make, specifically for _you_ people."

"Yukio. Can you give word to Yoruichi and Urahara by chance? Let them know things have changed?" Kurosaki focused solely on the screen, completely ignoring how close he was to Grimmjow as he walked up to it.

There was a blink as Yukio processed the idea. A quick _beepbeep_ was heard from off-screen. His expression hadn't changed.

"I've sent them a text but I don't think they're going to get it for a while."

Yukio shut down his monitor, disassociating himself from the crowd.

"What should we do, Ichigo?" Orihime asked wistfully, hoping to lighten the bleak situation.

"We should grab Chad and find Uryû. Hopefully that freak Haschwalth hasn't done too much damage yet." Then he paused. Kurosaki looked around him, up at the wall corners. "How do we get out of here? We used the _Garganta_ before but—?"

"My Separator can take us back," said Orihime, holding the named device for him to see.

The girl squirmed as Kurosaki stood next to her, a rosy glow patting her cheeks while they stood together. She pushed the button, and as before the capsule surrounded them, two orbs hovering at opposite ends. It would not warp until Orihime allowed it.

The _shinigami_ addressed the remaining two. "Right. You guys stay here and recover and we'll come back for you later, come up with a new plan. Have Yukio speed up the healing process in here for you guys. Maybe the time-jump will heal you faster."

"WHAT?" Grimmjow shouted. "You're leaving us?!"

Kurosaki gave him a boisterous grin. "Didn't expect you to enjoy my company so much. I thought you hated me."

His brows furrowed in rage. " _You little_ —!"

The two vanished before he could properly curse the teen.

Aggravation swelled like a storm. Useless, confined, _and_ he was left with a woman he couldn't stand. _Perfect . ._.

* * *

. . . Nel sat on her knees meditating while the beast stalked the interior of their small square space, irritation licking up each step. She was calm, a visualization of serenity as she remained quiet.

And it mauled at the rage within.

Only when he rounded the room _again_ after what felt like the ninth hour she broke the silence.

"You should reserve some of your energy. You will need it to defeat the Quincy King."

" _Hah_! A little late for that, _Nelliel_." And he crossed the room again.

Her hazel eyes remained shut. "I'm amazed over how much you remind me of Nnoitora."

" _Feh_. I'm not the one who's dead."

"You will be if you continue to act the way you are."

His hand tore at her furred breastplate. "What'd you say, _bitch_?" That slice carved a worse noose than that dead bastard ex-5th Espada had on his body years ago.

Nel did not back down. Her eyes opened, inches away from his heated stare. Their noses almost touched, trying to intimidate her by his closeness. She huffed, rolled her eyes about the room in boredom.

"I told you before, Grimmjow. We're the last of the Vasto Lorde. If you continue to waste your remaining reiatsu within this box I won't stop to pick you back up on the battlefield. If we fall, all will be lost."

There was an irritable bitterness as he beheld her. "Ever the soldier, aren't you?"

"And your lust for destruction will end us all."

His lips twitched into a smirk. "We're not _completely_ human yet."

Bad aura seeped from him. She stared him down from her seated position.

"Listen to me. Just because I choose not to fight does _not_ mean that I don't know how. I do not tolerate careless children. Now _let go_."

He could feel the chill of her remaining power strike, a battle noting that he _could_ lose to the chamois before him. It was unthinkable.

The look in her eyes was a solid warning: either he let go, or they would clash. He _would_ lose. Despicable.

His grip eased, then let go.

Grimmjow put distance between them, as much as he could in the small space. He found the high-rise he'd chosen to accommodate on their original ride to the Soul palace and thrust himself upon it, looking down at Nelliel with cold eyes. She'd resumed her meditation, back poised and head high while she concentrated on collecting any last drop of spiritual energy.

Her awareness of his blue stare fell short, and he scoffed. Grimmjow tucked himself into the corner as if he were cold.

"We have six days left. _Keep that in mind_."

If she heard him she didn't reply.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, locks catching through his raked fingers. It was something he never did, realizing when short strands discolored his palm. He tipped them, watching salt-and-pepper hair dust the high-rise.

Was it a premonition, for the life left to be had?

Tongue pinched under one of his remaining canines, Grimmjow could not draw blood.

It would all be ending soon, and he told her praying form this bluntly.

"We die in six days."


	7. Children of Fortune

He seemed to be meditating, eyes resting as he listened to the irregular beat he'd unfortunately now be accustomed with.

Pantera's sheath had been laid out on his lap, as if trying to tune the rhythm of his condemned heart to the missing blade, scouring nearby dimensions for a faint signal, a blip of something _wild_.

It was difficult, admitting so when the room fizzled out his reiatsu _again_.

Pantera was a lost cause as far as Grimmjow was concerned, but that damn _thumping_ made him more enraged than the loss of his blade.

Only the snarl in his voice disturbed the sound, the only way he could ignore it, by talking.

"How much longer 'til we're out of this cell?"

Nel smirked, her own meditative state undisturbed by his voice. "Counting down the minutes, are we?"

"I want my sword," voice gruff to deafen the heartbeats. "I want my _power_." His eyes opened, blazing under the ugly color of Yukio's industrial lighting.

The command to fast-forward their healing process had been done, a different kind of healing— _if it could be called that_ —than the girl Orihime Inoue's remarkable power.

He felt nothing. That was the difference.

With the princess, especially when she had brought his arm back and restored his power, it had been a wash of warmth like a kiss, pressed over and over to his healing muscles until his left arm returned.

Here impatience was set as an end-all ruling. It was hard not to twitch from irritability. He'd had enough.

"Hey kid!"

 _"What_ is it now?" Yukio's exasperated voice filled the room, face bored as it appeared on the screen.

"Tell that bastard Urahara we need to get out if here _now_!"

There was a scrolling _beep_ as he looked to a part of the screen. "There's still no response from him. Shall I write him a letter instead? An email perhaps?"

Grimmjow was maddened. He didn't know what an email was and he didn't appreciate the brat's tone. He dropped from the landing, a slight ache in his knees as he came to a full position ready to attack. " _Don't make me come through there you little_ —"

"Yukio, are you certain there's _nothing_ you can do to help us?" Nel asked sweetly. She'd found a place beside Grimmjow's rough stature, hands on his hips and ready to rumble with the young teen.

A gray-green eye peered at her from under his blond tuft. A scramble of codes and cheats allowed Yukio access to a new program. "The realm I'm currently uploading should grant you access back to the outside world. I'm not sure how you'll help, but my Invaders Must Die will give you an advantage."

"Thank you, Yukio." Nel smiled prettily.

There was a tiny blush on the boy's cheeks and a small smile before his image scattered. Grimmjow turned to her with irritation pulsing through his veins.

"Cheater."

"There's no rule that says being nice offers nothing in return."

With that Nel folded her arms satisfactorily, a triumphant humph echoing in the room. He rolled his eyes, feigning the need to be sick.

"Being _nice_ has no advantages. Someone of _your_ stature should know better. What kind of Espada were you?" he challenged.

Nel refused to take the bait. "One that made rational decisions not based on spite or taunts. Anyone ranked _Quarto_ and above understands that kind of pettiness gets you killed in battle." She added, "You really think you'd survive as the _Tres_?"

Grimmjow snarled, seething with distaste at the mention of her rank . . . or was it _another_ that made the cat hiss? An eyebrow had perched and quickly she saw through his devastated smoke screen. There had only been one ranked Fourth since she'd held her position—and been nearly blown away by him within Ichigo's grasp.

A naughty smirk played on her lips.

"I knew Ulquiorra. He was one of few Espada who could actually get along with anyone."

Grimmjow gave a harsh snort, tossed his head from the idea.

Nel was sharp as ever. "You two are complete polar opposites. You're as outrageous and violent as he was calculated and calm. You don't respect him, but I bet you envy Ulquiorra for achieving a _second release_."

That actually shocked Grimmjow. His eyebrows furrowed at once. "How did you know that?!"

"I felt him die too, remember? Maybe not as a comrade, but the abrupt force of his departure was quite hard to dismiss. Even to a child without power."

That truly made him want to retch. "Well that's just _great_!" and his sheath pierced the wall, grip crushing the scabbard into fine dust. " _All of us_. We're so _damn_ unfortunate. Dead. Impaired. _Inhuman_." Grimmjow yanked it from the wall and threw it blinding-fast, piercing one of the useless throw pillows and forcing it to the opposite wall. "You heard Urahara. The world will end in nine days once the Quincy King regains His _self_. The _brat_ thinks he can take on the freak himself with those modified swords. His crew believes he can win. _Hah_!" He ripped his sheath from the murdered pillow, down feathers spilling like blood from its mock hollow hole. Grimmjow damned the thing with his icy stare. He wasn't finished. "Now we're here as relics. All we can do is step on shards of glass! For high-class Hollows, we sure as shit don't have _any_ kind of luck."

Feathers had been yanked and scattered throughout the box in his malice, pummeled with his fists and empty sheath. The only thing he _could_ kill was as dissatisfying as this embargo of their powers.

Vanquished by a King and misfortune . . .

Nel thought of something and it was noticed immediately.

"What?"

"Unfortunate children . . . Through glass and painted mask . . . wielded blade by two—"

"—What're you blathering about—?"

"—end in bloom." Nel paused, looked to Grimmjow. "You knew Barragan. Did you ever hear about the Hollow King's stories?"

That threw him for a loop. " _Tch_. Never knew the geezer had stories to tell."

Nel got up and crossed to a corner of the box, lifting a flap Grimmjow hadn't known existed and pulled an item small and leaflike from the cubby. A type of manuscript from the look of it, paper-white and falling apart as she held it in her hand. It was something read many, many times.

"Some time after Ichigo left, I remember Pesche finding this old book in one of the palaces. He said it'd been mine when I was an Espada and looked after it fondly." She took a moment to reexamine the cover, thinking back to fond memories from her past. "Apparently after my exile from Las Noches my things were discarded at a rapid rate. Nnoitora stole my palace. But he didn't find all the treasures I kept hidden."

Grimmjow eyed her with contempt, the story already too long. He sat amongst the pillow corpses, fist to cheek. " _And_?"

"The stories in this book are tales of culture, histories of the world, old and faded mythologies, perhaps fallen to Hueco Mundo with an unfortunate soul. Pesche read me a story, telling of how a king fought off his enemies, how his fearful tutelage sought forth the coming of a great army, much different than Aizen's."

He drummed his fingers in an uneven pattern. Grimmjow begrudgingly nudged her to continue with exasperation. "And what was the story about?"

"It spoke of the Children of Fortune. Death wasn't always a cruel departed soul. He had a heart at one point, just like us. Like every Hollow when they were once human."

Nelliel opened stain-withered pages, citing the text directly when her eyes found the title.

" _There once lived an arrogant and evil king whose ambition was to conquer everything and cause every man alive to fear his name. With sword and fire he scourged the world; his soldiers walked in procession, trampling over sinners and setting flame to the pelts of animals. Day by day his power increased and his name became more fearful to all. No man was able to resist falling before the wrath of his mighty army. Luck seemed to smile on whatever he did._

" _The evil king erected statues of himself in every city, every home, claiming proper rule over the castles of royals. The king however could not sway the priests who protected their churches from his power._

" _The priests said, 'King, your influence is great, but God is greater!'_

"' _Then I must conquer God,' he replied, and burned every synagogue._

" _Within weeks God fell. The evil king broke through Heaven's gate and changed the world to his liking. Only few could resist the evil king, and those who could allied themselves with Death. Death would not see the world die before its time and bestowed gifts of unlikely items to his children, spiritually sound and spiritually inclined to protect their world from misfortune."_

Nel took a breath and read, " _The god of Death told a tale to those who could hear him. He said, 'My children, you will come to fortune one day, but not without forsaking those you care for. My children, you will learn that life is full of death, but the riches that survive in the living, the fortune is seeing the glory within._

 _'Life is permitted. Death is inevitable. Children will come into fortune_.'"

Grimmjow's face was like a slate, nearly falling asleep from the droll which was the story. "I knew Barragan couldn't tell stories. That old bastard wore them across his face instead," referencing the tyrant of skulls' scars across his visage.

"You weren't much of a reader, were you?"

"That story made no sense, Nelliel."

Nel was comically expressive as she frowned, Grimmjow's ignorance quite aggravating as he only lounged in his court of mauled cushions. "It's _obviously_ telling us about the Quincy King!" She huffed. "Well I believe it teaches us something. If we are given opportunity we must take it."

" _Hmph_. An opportunity to do what exactly? Sit on our asses and state _reclamation_ when we both know damn well our fight is over?" Grimmjow picked up Pantera's sheath and studied the ocean blue weave with boredom, placed it against the wall in respect, as if with care. "That _prophesy_ tells nothing of who we are, _what_ we are. What kind of _fortunes_ are you expecting? We have nothing, no power, not even a weapon to cut down our enemies."

Nel continued. "There is another part, a parable. It's said to be a legend from the human world, but now I'm not so sure."

"And what makes you so damn sure it's even _Barragan_?" Grimmjow got in her face again, pointing an accusing finger at the broken spine. "That book's old. There's more than just one god of Death. The humans created more gods than there actually are. Then again, those _shinigami_ _did_ get their asses kicked," and he smiled at the thought, pleased by so many of their deaths.

"You're horrible!" Nel snapped.

"I never said working together would be a delight." And his smirk widened, finally getting under the bitch's skin and loving it.

She glowered at him, finding it cute as the pull of her lips turned into a pout. If only he felt affection toward his partner.

She ripped open her tome and turned, making sure that the swish of her hair got him partially in the face. Sparks of rage illuminated his bright eyes, hand reaching to tear a clump of grass-colored hair out. She stepped away before he could snatch her.

" _See through glass and painted mask and wielded blade by two, f_ _rom here the world will end in bloom_."

Nel caught his hand and held it, snapping the book closed with her opposite palm.

His naturally furrowed brows marked an even deeper and angrier scowl as he beheld her, lip curling as he said, "I can't stand you."

There was a smile, teasing him. "I know. But you know if we work together we'll succeed. We made a pact with Urahara after all."

" _Ugh_."

"I value your trust. Maybe it's time you realize I'm on your side, beast."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tale of the Children of Fortune is based from fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen.


	8. Relapse

_2:39_

_2:38_

_2:37_

_2:36_

Yukio's Fullbring came through. Healed according to the youth's eclectic sensors, in less than three minutes the ex-Espadas would be freed from the industrial box and be rereleased into the Wahrwald.

They stood waiting before the timer, counting down the seconds as red numerals burned into their retinas. Yukio's strange digital clock was like a floating emblem above their tipped heads for the days to come. It was bothersome.

There was a huff from the werecat, scratching his hair in irritation.

Grimmjow asked blunt, "Did your book of Fortune say how the hell we'll win? I don't exactly remember an ending."

Nel smiled. "The legend says " _the world will end in bloom_."

"That tells me nothing."

She tried a different explanation. "The _Children of Fortune_ talks about death, how "Death is inevitable." Death created an army to resist the evil king. We are figments of death. Perhaps it's telling us—"

"—You're just gonna go on and on, aren't you? If you're relating this back to Aizen and the damn Hogyoku just kill me now," he spat. "Like that _shinigami_ created _Las Noches_ because of some historical premonition, _gimme a break_." Grimmjow's foul attitude and ignorance to possibility hardly tried Nel's patience.

_2:03_

_2:02_

"Aizen _did_ bestow gifts of unlikely items to his "children," Grimmjow. Maybe you'r—"

" _NO_."

_1:54_

He didn't care what the chick said. All that mattered was gaining his power back . . . _How_ was another question. That deal with Urahara was null and void far as Grimmjow was concerned.

Grimmjow thought back to their encounter with the Quincy king and scowled. Yeah, some of that shit story was significant and coincidental to this Blood-war, he wasn't a total hot-head all the time, too ignorant or blind to see the reality around them. He just didn't believe in coincidences or bullshit. Plain and simple.

Finding his thoughts soaked in the Quincy's hot blood as he murdered the King, casually he eyed the symbol of Aries on her wrist when the lust passed. It was as innocent as a thought could be, especially coming from _Grimmjow_ of all people.

"What about that bracelet the Candyman gave you?"

She took hold of her device and held it protectively.

"If you're going to try and take it so you can abandon me and run off— _forget it_."

Grimmjow felt touched in a twisted sense and grinned maliciously. " _Aw_ , c'mon now, what fun would _that_ be?"

She swatted him on the nose with her book and folded her arms. "Your sense of humor is really horrible, you know that?"

"Do that again, I dare you!"

"We have a _mission_ , remember? What use will I be if I'm sentenced to being a child once more?" she said crossly, then added with a vindictive tone, "Your irrational urges will be the reason we fall, I swear . . ."

_1:22_

_1:21_

He gave her a sidelong glance, bright eyes narrowed. " _Nelliel_. Do you honestly believe we can siphon through _every_ dimension created and find one out of thousands? We're not _that_ fortunate, no matter what your story claims," he added sarcastically, still denying the power of the tale.

The flurry of unnatural hair hid the reaction on Nel's face. "It's our duty to find one of our kin. If you ever claimed to be proud of your position and strength, imagine powerlessness and the inability to strike your enemy as they laugh in your face." Her eyes met his and told him straight, "Harribel's honor deserves that much."

There was an incoherent grumble, a snide remark going unheard.

Silence.

_:59_

"What can I blow up to find her?"

_:57_

"Everything."

He liked the sound of that.

An iridescent outline found shape on the wall below the countdown, a door large enough to fit both inhumans through at once. His eyes were locked on the glow from beyond. _Not much longer_. . . _!_

"Grimmjow?"

He stifled the urge to growl.

"What?"

He didn't look at her.

She studied his face, his features. Decided against saying anything. "It's nothing."

He glanced at her briefly, noticing . . . something. Off, different, there wasn't a correct term for what he saw.

His eyes flicked back to the door. "If you've got something to say spit it out."

There was a wry smirk on her lips. "Just make sure you powder your cheeks when this is over. You don't want to ruin your new face with all those bruises you're going to get."

There was a spark in his eye, finding her comment actually amusing. "We'll see. Can you manage without your blade?"

"You should talk. I've lived without a blade longer than _you_ could manage."

_:03_

_:02_

_:01_

_GO_

The door dropped as if falling down a chute, strip lights illuminating the steps toward the blackened rendezvous point.

"You better hope the Garganta opens when we get to it. With what little reiatsu we have it might not recognize us or heed our command."

Nel hummed in agreement.

Down the stairs and standing before the mouth it opened without temperament, shutters spreading like a drawbridge of teeth, shifting one by one until the gap matched the height of their bodies and they passed through.

Both were disturbed.

Grimmjow swore harshly. "We spent too long in that freakin' thing!"

Night had fallen, the palace unappealing as Hueco Mundo's crescent moon as it hung in the sky like a frozen cocoon.

Emptiness encircled them, finding their exit's surrounding _crushed_ by an unknown source. It was a wonder their nail survived the impact at all. "What happened?" Nel asked rhetorically, Grimmjow gaining higher ground to inspect further. Ellipses destroyed the Wahrwald at uneven distances, white towers demolished by what looked like _footprints_. Buildings crumbled afar, smoke rising as the barren land wasted before his eyes. They'd missed one _hell_ of a greedy battle.

Nel thought she heard the remnants of eaves shatter from the giant's impromptu tirade though only they stood amongst the ruins.

Wind swept through her hair, air chilled by a colder presence, crisp and unlike the dreariness of Hueco Mundo's endless nights. Ghosts passed in wisps as she exhaled.

Grimmjow dropped at her side, own breath clouding his face as he readied to charge forward.

" _Wait_!"

Both turned in surprise to see a costumed girl dashing behind them, pigtailed magenta locks bouncing behind her fluffy cap like an extra set of rabbit ears. She slowed and doubled over gasping for air like she had run a marathon, hardly a few yards.

"Riruka!"

Her face was flushed as she looked at the female, Nelliel's approachability calming her somewhat.

"I . . . I heard over the intercom, what happened," _huff huff_ , "I-I wanted to-to give this to you, to help you."

Riruka held out her Love gun, cotton candy colored and duck billed and winged like sweet cherubs. It was questionably more adorable than the _Sexta_ could withstand. "It isn't much. I don't even think it could stop that man if you tried . . . just don't scratch it. I kinda like it a lot."

Nel swept her up in a great hug suddenly, full of love and adornment as she pressed herself cheek to cheek with the struggling girl, smiling graciously with joy. "Oh, _thank you_ , Riruka!"

" _Yech_! Let go! I didn't want this to be a hugging fest, _ack_! You're _crushing_ me!"

Nel released her, innocent eyes watching as Riruka attempted to realign her spine.

Grimmjow looked elsewhere, impatient and slightly appalled.

She looked to the _Sexta_ , hardly withering as she called to him. "Hey. I have something for you too."

"I don't do cute," Grimmjow responded, impressing on the human girl he'd rather chew off his own leg than keep something of hers on his body.

Riruka grumbled, then sniffed hotly. " _Fine_! It's not like I wanted to help you anyway!"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, already tired of this whiny bitch.

He heard it whistle through the air before reacting; something knocked him squarely in the back of his head. " _Ow_!" A hand immediately went to the spot, Grimmjow turning to see the item of assault. A chrome tin with heartshaped rivets lay on the bleached stone dust, Riruka's face flushed by rage, arm raised in punishment toward his direction. Nel was dazed by the action. She actually threw it at him!

Grimmjow picked it up, steaming with murder. "The hell is this?!"

"What do you _think_?! It's to help you, you _jerk_!"

"Well, what does it do?!"

"How should I know?!" Riruka shouted back, gaining her own pair of fangs in spite of the disgraced Panther king.

Red seeped into his blaring blue eyes, destructive impulses overpowering his mind like opium to end her. Nel somehow was there, stopping Grimmjow with a hand to his open chest. Grinding his teeth as she resisted.

"It's a location device developed by Urahara, designed to isolate reiatsu, or whatever. To help find your friend." Riruka had wrapped an arm around herself, as if to keep warm.

"And that bastard only decided to give it to us _now_?!" Grimmjow roared, Nelliel continuing to do her best to tame him.

"Yukio forgot to give it to you, OK?"

"That's not true. You're the one who wanted to make sure Ichigo would be able to draw more power out of it!" Yukio delivered smartly as he popped out from the box, PSP between gloved hands.

The girl's face warmed with heat, blushing bright. "Shut up, Yukio!"

"It wasn't finished at the time you all left," he addressed to the ex-Espada, voice resonating loudly from high within the box. "It is now, so take it." Once more the boy closed himself off from the outside world, leaving Riruka to deal with the issue at hand. She made a face at the entrance, hoping Yukio could see her through the walls.

Grimmjow stuffed the device in his pocket and stormed off, smoke rising from each burning step. Urahara was _useless_! Grimmjow shouted back, "HE COULDN'T GET ME A SWORD?!"

Pounding bursts rocked the arctic earth, the _Sexta_ waging war only a short distance away. An avalanche of buildings caused the girl to grow nervous. It was a complete flip from the raging teen she'd been moments before.

Nel calmly touched Riruka on the shoulder and smiled. "Don't listen to him. We'll make sure Ichigo wins."

More collapsed past the gigantic footprints, sound playing a heavy-metallic ballad as it drowned everything else out.

Nel brought her thumb and index finger to the bridge of her nose, almost embarrassed to be associated with Grimmjow.

She found him lost within the devastation, dusted white and out of breath. His hair was ashen and gray, specks of his hardship biting through his clothing like tiny moths. Knuckles had been bloodied, a hairline scratch over the burn scar gemstone red. He refused to look at her, either too proud or too humiliated while he sat on a disintegrating throne of rubble.

She looked around herself, toeing splinters of wall Grimmjow blew out. Nel sighed, hands on hips as she thought. He didn't want a lecture, and she didn't want to give one either. It was as she told him before—Nel would not stop to pick a comrade up on the battlefront if he was the one attempting to take his own life.

If Grimmjow relapsed again Nel wasn't sure she'd stay by his side for the remainder of the war.

She tossed her hair back, keeping herself composed as she called to her partner.

"So what's our plan now?"

He scoffed. "Same as it was before."

That wasn't exactly what she meant; Nel took his response regardless. "You mean find Harribel? But how do we find Uryû?"

"Who?"

" _Ishida_."

"Oh. The hell if I know." Grimmjow rose, knees tender and popped when he stood upright. 

"Askin said he and the other Quincy named Haschwalth can lead us to her. Let me see your device. If it can isolate reiatsu, we can possibly— "

"Just take the damn thing, I don't want it." Grimmjow thrust it in her hand and walked away, dusted himself off, Nelliel fumbling both bubblegum pop gun and stickered location device like they were piping hot. She clutched the two against her full chest in fear they'd both break if dropped.

The _Sexta_ took a deep breath and felt the cold prick his lungs, exhaled deeply until reiatsu warmed up from within, revving with primal energy like an engine.

Grimmjow thrust himself forward into the dark air, leaping to gain higher ground, to get away from Nelliel, only to make a bump in the air.

Grimmjow hardly moved more than a couple yards. He touched down with a surprised look and attempted again. He looked like a child playing hopscotch.

Nelliel retorted with a chiding laugh, grinding his gears as a vein sprout from his forehead.

"Of course this is how you tease me. Human for only an hour and you're already playing games."

He muttered something, Nel lending an ear in the direction of his voice. Her mouth was still twisted in a wicked grin. "What?"

" _I said I can't wait until I get Pantera back so I can_ _cut_ _you_."

She smiled in agreement. "I look forward to that time."

They took to running, swiftly cutting through the wintry streets as shadows loomed from the eaves above, concern for the demonic king or his rabid soldats emerging from them hardly a thought. His vicious blue eyes took hold of the woman prancing quickly before him, hair rippling in odd shades as they weaved between the darkness.

"So how will you get Ishida to give you what we want? He's the King's _bitch_. Are you gonna beat him into submission? Do you have it in you?" he mocked, knowing Nel's kind heart loved more than hated.

She eyed him and smirked. "If anyone like me can handle a brat like you, I think we'll do just _fine_." And she leapt farther than he expected, reiatsu bounding from her proudly.

A strange sensation vibrated against her ribs, actively buzzing with the full power of a wasp's nest. She pulled out what was the location device, chrome surface sparking pink where Riruka's hearts pressured the surface.

With a nuclear burst Nel soared atop one of the false stone churches, standing on the point of a conical spire. Nel stared at the little tin gadget in her black-gloved hands, it beeping heartily as familiar energies coursed through her veins and fed her hungry soul. Its glow colored her cheeks with firelight. Excitement grew on her face.

She was so high up Grimmjow had to squint to properly see where Nel was against the darkness. A firefly had more depth than the gold speck she became. " _Hey_! Get back here!" he shouted from below.

The tower was more than five stories high and she shot up like a missile without breaking a sweat. She aggravated him when she was around and when she _wasn't_ around. Meditating all those hours apparently _had_ given her an advantage.

She was up there for so long dawn's light pierced him with needle points. His eyes narrowed to the sun. _Fuck . . ._

" _Five days_ . . ."

The silhouette of her ruffled leotard dropped from the spire with haste, halting above him on a nearby roof like some icon of stature. " _This way_!"

She was off before he could curse her. "Wait!"

He saw the shape of her leap from railings to roofs and he chased the _Tres_ fast as he could.

Grimmjow didn't know where the hell she was leading him but he sure as shit wouldn't let her keep trailing him along. No, it was about time to pick up the pace and use what lousy reiatsu he had left and find the _real_ one he was looking for and suckerpunch the little bastard. And he could _smell_ him nearby. He deviated from Nel and found refuge with another empty road, leading him straight to who he wanted.

The Wahrwald stretched for _miles_ in five directions—and they were _so_ close, he and the girl. They'd left hours ago but only were _this_ far away? The _Sexta_ caught up to them in no time.

Flashes of color the shades of autumn leaves flit by at the end of the street. _Hair hard to miss_.

Grimmjow advanced and found a shortcut through a building, smashing through windows and doors.

* * *

They'd been running for hours but neither showed weakness nor shortness of breath. Night was levitating upwards and the sun began to take its place. Something Ichigo wasn't sure how he felt about. 

He'd figured Orihime would need to rest after so long but she hadn't complained once. As dawn broke he thought he heard church bells ringing in the distance, echoing throughout the kingdom to indicate Yhwach's unholy coronation. It made his frown deepen.

The icicles were like glass as they shattered underfoot, falling to impale. More and more shook from the blue-white marquees they passed beneath, Orihime's skirt nearly gaining a slit in the back. The area shook enough to make the teens believe an earthquake was upon them.

A harsh knocking of drywall and groaning wood came from their right—

There was a punch and Ichigo was sent flying.

" _Aah_! _Ichigo_!"

Ichigo shook it off and looked to the cyclone of smoke, Zangetsu's longsword gripped within his hand. Orihime hovered over his fallen form as a protective charm, ready to defend.

A man emerged from the home's innards, snarling at his victim and clearly pissed.

"What. _Grimmjow_?!"

"Damn straight it's me you little punk! That'll teach _you_ for locking me up in a cell!"

Ichigo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, red beads smearing. Orihime's eyes were larger than normal, open and bewildered as she too looked Grimmjow over.

Ichigo opened his bloody mouth and said, "What happened? What's up with your hair?"

" _Huh_?"

Grimmjow looked into the nearest reflection of glass, hardly a mirror but it reflected enough.

Salt-and-pepper was dusted into his hair. A hand raked through the wild locks to clear the gray.

It didn't bring back his color's vibrant hue, so he did it again. And again. Silvery strands fell out easily, settling on the ground like seasoning.

The gray was permanent. " _What_?!"


	9. The Road to Jericho

Blue as a strike of lightening, Grimmjow's eyes widened at the sight of himself. Half-shocked at the state he'd fallen into.

Salt-and-pepper dusted his jacket and bodysuit. Strands were caught in his palm like wilted petals, lacking color and unappealingly gray.

Edgy locks were styled in his usual way, disheveled only by the tint of middle age. Blue had faded into gunmetal bands which balanced around his crown.

Orihime wasted no time and directed her fairies at him, reversing the wounds to his fists and regenerating skin taut to the muscle. The silver-gray locks resisted change, and eventually the healer waved her power off, disappointed.

Kurosaki, comedic timing at the ready, again mouthed off. " _Damn_. When you said Yhwach turned you human I didn't believe it at first, but you're looking more haggard than my old man."

A vein throbbed in aggravation. "Of _course_ it's serious, you cheeky brat!" Lips had curled into a snarl, those prominent canines being exposed. "I might look like I'm aging physically, but I'm still _a-hell-of-a-lot_ stronger than you!"

As if to prove his point, Grimmjow made a grand gesture in the air with his hand, about to unleash a direct shot at the _shinigami's_ head. The supernova barely warmed when heels clacked on the slate roof high above.

" _There_ you are!"

Nel's fists were propped on her waist in an oppressive stance, looking an image of Wonder Woman if her frown wasn't present. "I can't believe you! Running off like that!" she scolded him hotly, Grimmjow ignoring her wrath as steam escaped through his nostrils.

He shook off the live heat which formed into his hand begrudgingly.

The sky was growing gold on the horizon and it passed through the dips in her hair like a crystal, highlighting all the unnatural changes with a brush of wind.

She was getting weird looks from the kids. Grimmjow noticed it then too, the _something_ he couldn't figure out earlier.

The desperado watched Nelliel drop with aesthetic haste to confront his actions, indicating the demolished wall to her right upon landing. "The more you exert yourself the less reiatsu you'll have. I warned you about this!"

Orihime cried, " _Ah_! Nel, your hair!"

She looked confused, a frown tugging her lips as her eyebrows perched. "Hm?"

Her vivid locks had become less unique without her even realizing.

Her hair appeared . . . _confused_. . . as to what color it chose, spits of reddish mud and earthen clay, shoots of green twirling round in thorny stalks. There were sunbursts yellow like a summer marigold, sandy blond curls wisp-like and thin the more they observed. Nel didn't nearly suffer as much gray as Grimmjow, however silver strands caught his eye, listening to its own pattern and rippled through her hair as she moved to rejoin the group. It was like a flow of sand on a shoreline, strands cajoling one another to keep the true color of her hair a mystery.

Ichigo could hardly understand half of what'd become of the Espadas as they stood side to side, staring at one another's mane like grotesque creatures of myth.

Physically they would've held rapture if they were _average_ humans, beautiful and deadly.

Unnaturally they were odd and mismatched, strange beings reborn in the shadows of a rift just shy of reaching Nirvana.

Grimmjow folded his arms as he snorted, throwing a sharp glare away from Nel onto the teens, more vicious with the way the teal framed his eyes. He started, "Why were you idiots running around? Aren't you worried about being captured? You're Public Enemy Number One," he indicated the savior.

There was a grimace from Kurosaki, Orihime looking forlorn as a widow's at the grave.

Kurosaki said, "They got Chad. And Ganju. I don't know where they took them. The statues we left them to fight Yhwach were demolished . . . but there's no trace left on the stones."

"Oh dear," Nel said with strife. Her partner kept a blank stare.

"He's picking off Urahara's pawns right under your nose, Kurosaki," and Grimmjow made a gesture like he was knocking aside a chess piece, queen claiming the spot of a knight.

"Pawns?!" the teen threw back, insulted.

"Not like those two did all that much."

Kurosaki stepped up to the plate across from Grimmjow, confronting him on a more personal level. They hadn't been this close since their last battle, when he was a demon and _he_ was fighting for his pride.

"Urahara wouldn't set us up like that, to be knocked off so easily!"

" _Sheesh_. Then you _hardly_ know battle, kid. How well do you actually know this guy? He's as _savage_ as I am, if not worse," he sneered.

Nel gave Grimmjow a look of uncertainty, kept her poise straight as she listened and seemed to agree. Grimmjow went on. "Urahara would _deliver_ you to that Quincy himself if it didn't mean everything would be erased!"

"Stop lying!"

He gave a wicked laugh. "We're running out of _time_ , Kurosaki. We're going to _die_ in five days unless we figure out how to kill Him!"

Nel cut in with, "Grimmjow—"

" _DON'T_."

She turned her nose away, refusing to acknowledge where the conversation had turned.

"Do you really think we give a shit He wiped out the Soul Society? You're just a _substitute_. He took _everything_ from us! Our land, our powers, _us_! Hueco Mundo has been compromised. So _what_ if He wants to conquer the world?! What's so important that He took from you?!"

Kurosaki forced his way through the minute crowd, orange bangs shading his eyes from view. The warrior was young, eighteen-years-old and a veteran afflicted by the tug of war more harshly than a youth spiritually inclined should ever experience.

Ichigo stopped, his strong shape silhouetted to the oncoming daylight.

"He took my mother. He took our _friend_. I refuse to see my _nakama_ suffer anymore. 'Specially not at the hands of a madman."

A curtain of darkness appeared to bleed from his back, stoic as it reached to cater to his group, an unnatural chill seeping through their veins as he looked to the light. "Friends. Allies. Enemies. In the end we're all going to suffer the same fate, Grimmjow. Without all of us we might as well put the crown on him ourselves." A look was sent back to the _Sexta_ , a golden iris fixated on the one he hoped would be his ally.

Ichigo was gone in a flash, _shun-po_ lifting him off and leaving the three behind.

Orihime gasped and ran after him, calling his name, attempting to catch up. Grimmjow's leer also caused a flurry in her steps as he eyed her exposed curves over, making her uncomfortable.

" _Ichigo_!"

He gave a huff of a laugh, finding humor that he was able to tease the girl into running away.

The two Espadas were left, both silent and scowling bitterly. Nel studied her strands with mild interest.

"He's right you know."

"Shut up."

"The road will only be more perilous the farther we travel. We're stronger as a unit. He wishes us to stand as one. Otherwise . . . all will collapse."

Grimmjow blew at the gray strands before his eyes. "How can you stand having all that hair?"

She ignored the question, tossed the unnatural waves off her shoulder. Nel followed the barren street until daylight grew in strength, rapid bursts from the tin device pulsing in her hand. She had left Grimmjow to stand in the shade of a building, looking even older as the light played against his rough features. She turned to follow suit of the humans, eyeing him cautiously. "Don't let it be like _Jericho's Route_."

"What?"

"Another story. I don't have time to explain it to someone who won't listen."

Grimmjow grinned. "It's not that I won't listen. I just can't stand the sound of your voice."

"Likewise."

Nelliel hopped-to and ran after her friends, seeking out Ichigo to try and offer guidance.

Grimmjow spat. Were they _really_ going to show back up at the Silbern without a plan? Nelliel's condolences aside, how far were they going to push to the edge? It was aggravating.

He'd originally split from the group to chase Askin, _better fun than the hiking trip with the A-team for sure_ , but man, one little _rattle_ from him about what war tasted like—and _he_ was the one losing more reiatsu?! Half their forces were incapacitated or staving off the enemy. What a joke.

Shaking Kurosaki's nerve with the comment about the Candyman was the only thing worth it. Any excuse for payback _if the world was going to end . . ._

Grimmjow stalked the path into an opening, a frozen memorial presented in the center as an inviting scenic element. It only stood in his way. "Nelliel!" he shouted, "Stop pissing around!"

There was silence. Grimmjow shouted her name again. " _Nelliel_! The hell are you?!"

Gone.

He snarled fiercely like his feline counterpart. " _Shit_."

Was she really worth the risk?

He could feel the air around somewhat, his _pesquisa_ not gone like originally thought yet could hardly compare to his original abilities. He sifted the reiatsu and bended their will to tell which direction each entity went.

The _onna_ was with Kurosaki. They were together. Nelliel wasn't with them.

_Where was that bi_ —?!

_There_.

_That's where she was_.

_With_ _him_.

It was a decision made in split-seconds. Riling the reserve of power within to create a _sonído_ , Grimmjow snapped through the air like a bullet, sparks shooting off his spurs.

He had felt what she felt, the lure hypnotic as he trailed _that_ cologne, grinding his teeth as he thought how easily she'd been ensnared by the enemy. And _she_ was the _Tres_? Pitiful.

Another launch shook the air violently. Roofs became craters for his multiplying steps. The Wahrwald was a blur as it cowed below, etched white with sin when he rose above it all.

He felt a streak near his temple intensify in color at the last burst and Grimmjow swore. The _Sexta_ was being baptized by humanity.

And _sonído_ ceased motion midair. His eyes grew in size when he felt his body jerk with a stop.

A shout escaped as he fell, crashing into a roof as power rapidly dropped. He hit the Quincy structure with the full-force of a bomb, causing it to buckle and sway. It barely withstood the titan-sized depression.

A gate of ash obscured the crash site, swirled from the updraft of Grimmjow's wrath.

Fingers dug into shingles with a razor-edged move, nearly slipping from the eaves because of frost. Grimmjow grit his teeth in anger than from the fear of falling.

He'd hit the benchmark in his reserve.

" _Damn it_!"

With a swift move he recovered and found the roof under his feet, searching the Wahrwald. He'd been at least fifteen meters above the ground. He was lucky only a scratch tore his jacket from the impact.

From there he moved closer to the alluring scent.

The Love gun was discarded between a marble banister and a toppled effigy. Farther up the location device slept against a stained glass window, hard to notice if the cracked hearts didn't glow at that moment.

He grabbed it, the wrecked device humming in his grip. He snorted at the piece of trash.

Grimmjow felt like an idiot as he asked, "Tell me where Nelliel is!"

The tin responded with a mechanical chirp, the hearts' line-up growing in strength. He swung it about like a compass hoping to pick up her faint reiatsu. They changed from pink to orange as he walked, hearts ascending in order from small to large in more frequent surges the closer he neared.

His path forked in opposite directions, knowing both lead to danger by the feel poisoned energy left on his skin. The location device glittered yellow as it told him which way to travel.

The road would be dangerous, difficult when the time came. It was an easy challenge—he was the _Sexta_! The Panther _King_ , Reio be damned!

So why was he hesitating? The sensation permeated around him, tasting the blood he'd eventually find in his mouth.

The device persisted with its harping to seek Nelliel.

Grimmjow smirked at the feeling of uneasiness as it collapsed into his chest.

" _Jericho's Route_? Can't be too hard if we survived over everyone else."

Yellow glowed from his palm, flames of phoenix wings guiding him to the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Jesus' time the Jericho-Jerusalem road was notorious for its danger and difficulty. The road is most renowned for its appearance in the parable of the Good Samaritan.


End file.
